Wired
by MelanyeBaggins
Summary: Scully takes Mulder up on his offer for a run in the Pilot. Pg-13 for a few suggestive thoughts.


Wired 

Summary: Scully takes Mulder up on his offer to go for a run in the Pilot.  
Spoilers: Pilot  
Disclaimer: They're not mine, so stop asking!!  
Rating: PG-13, I guess (for a few hinting thoughts) 

***

_*Well, here I am doing my field report like a good little agent.* _

"UGGGHHH!!"

_*Why doesn't this case make any sense?!? Mulder thinks that that boy is an alien, or something, with a chunk of metal up his nose. That's the one thing that keeps me from solving this case... How did it get there?* _

I pick up the x-ray off of my lampshade and look at it. _*Why would someone put it there unless they were tracking him? And for what, to kill him in the forest?*_ A knock at my door interrupts my thoughts. 

"Who is it?" I ask, putting the x-ray down on the bed beside me. 

"Stephen Speilberg!" Mulder's voice answers. I can't help but smile. He can be so cute sometimes. I unlock the door and see him there jogging on my front step.

"I'm way too wired. Going for a run, you wanna come?" he asks. 

If only he knew how many meanings that sentence held. 

I'm about to say 'no', but feel my own legs beg to be let outside, so I reconsider.

"Sure. Just let me get my shoes on." 

***

The night was beautiful. Not too warm, and not too cold - perfect for running. This is a good way to release pent up emotions, I thought, though it doesn't help if the object of these emotions is running right beside you. 

We run in silence for a while, partly from lack of ideas, and from lack of breath. We follow a path that cuts through a park, me struggling to keep up with his longer strides, and I feel eternally grateful when I see a bench and a water fountain up ahead. 

"Wait..." I say breathlessly as I lean over to get a drink of water. He's still jogging on the spot behind me and when I finish he takes over. I collapse on the bench, still breathing hard. He sits down next to me. 

"You out of breath?" he asks between his own gasps. I just nod. He motions to his lap and I give him a questioning look. "You want to lie down?" he clarifies and I release the breath I've been holding in relief and lie down. Never let it be said that a man's thighs don't make good pillows. We stayed like that on the bench until our breathing got back to normal, if that were possible considering where my head is. The whole time he was unconsciously stroking my hair. He has no idea what that does to me. 

Finally I sat up and checked my pulse. Fifteen beats every ten seconds. I look over and see him doing it as well- doing it _wrong_. 

"Here, let me..." I say before I can stop myself and soon have two fingers at the base of his neck. His pulse is much quicker. I tell him so. He shrugs. 

"Wanna keep going?" he asks. My thighs protest. Damn. 

"Maybe we could just walk the rest of the way." I suggest. He nods and stands up. 

We continue on the path in the moonlight, walking at a comfortable pace. We were silent for a minute or so, and then he spoke. 

"So, what do you think of the case?" he asks casually. I look over at him and his gaze locks with mine. My breath catches in my throat. 

"It's okay," is all I can manage. He chuckles. 

"Okay?" he asks, doubting, "You nearly tore my head off in that autopsy room." he says, humor in his voice. 

"Sorry," I say, " but you were being so..." I stop, at a loss for words. 

"Insightful?" he tries with a grin. 

"Crazy!" I correct him. "You only see what you want to see. I'm surprised that you were even listening to me!" 

"What do you mean?" 

"You didn't listen to any of my advice, you just went ahead and did your tests and followed your little green men." 

"Grey." 

"No wonder they call you 'Spooky'." I joke. He stops walking. 

"Is that what _you_ call me?" he asks. I look at him; his beautiful eyes, his perfect mouth, down his lean neck to the sweats that cling to his perfect body. I've only known the man for two days and I'm already thinking about his body. I look back at his eyes and shake my head. 

"No," I say, "I just call you Mulder." 

END


End file.
